#and he does that by being loyal and understanding
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birrdies · 3 days ago
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If there’s one thing Grian can’t stand— it’s lack of control. Even outside of a watcher and game-maker perspective, if Grian isn’t in charge of the narrative he spirals; he lashes out, even if it means painting himself the villain it does not matter so long as he is holding onto the reigns. And the biggest threat to his autonomy was who else but Scar. 3rd Life messed both them up irreparably, but for the first time Grian finds himself letting a man like Scar watch his back. Gives up some fraction of control to Scar, surrenders his green life (and subsequent lives, honestly) to helping and defending him and standing by his side. And that, somehow, has been the only time Grian has been loyal through and through to someone in life series history. For all his whining and “woe is me” theatrics, he was Scar’s ride or die to the very end. Even when Scar betrayed him.
And what did that get him? He won, sure. But Grian’s victory has always been the saddest in my opinion. Alone at the edge of the empty world, hands bloodied by force because of the game he made— the game he made to be collaborative, to have FUN— and here he is now. Alone. And Scar forced his hand. He didn’t have to throw himself off that cliff. But he did.
And now they’re back. Again and again, over and over. And one thing is for sure— no one’s going to take him by surprise again. So if he’s control of everything from this point on— his allies, his reputation, how his actions are perceived, the games themselves— no one can hurt him.
But that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t miss it. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t wish he can go back— that it can be him and Scar again and he doesn’t have to watch Scar relive his 3L fantasies without him this time. He wants to believe he‘s in good standing on the reputation board; he wants to believe Scar when he says he won’t kill him in a cheap way. Because he wants to believe in Scar. And when Scar shoots him off that edge anyway— even when Grian offered a life up to him on a silver platter— he just snaps.
That’s why he’s mad. Not because Scar killed him. Grian understands more than anyone the rules of the game. It’s a death game, he’s not an idiot. But it’s the fact that he still, for some reason, trusted Scar. And I think most of that anger is a misplaced outburst toward himself for being so stupid. For letting his waver on his control waver, for still hoping for something different.
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black--sun · 3 days ago
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He shrugs. Everyone dies sometime. On the other hand, knowing that doesn’t make it easier to go through. “I’m not going to die. I was being a smartass. I have to take care of my sisters, so it’s not really an option.” Sort of. His sisters are old enough to take care of themselves, but he checks in on them. He tries to be there. He hopes they’d tell him if they had problems they couldn’t handle. 
Ichigo snorts too and tosses Shiro a glance. “Maybe someday I’ll write a book, when I’m too old to run around doing people’s dirty work for them.” If he makes it that long. But he smirks. “You need to help people understand you now. Forget in three hundred years.” Shiro is so different from everyone else Ichigo knows. But he’s also a lot like Ichigo in just enough ways Ichigo can’t help but be drawn to him. Ichigo shakes his head, amused. 
He chuckles when Shiro calls him a shit, but it’s more air than sound. “Yeah.” He can agree with that. “It’s good for you. You don’t need a bunch of guys saying yes all the time.” 
“That’s not a fair question. There are too many answers. No, I don’t think you should go, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you there. I want to know you’re safe.” He’s used to working with people. He doesn’t do every job alone and he’s flexible. But he absolutely was told to do this job discreetly. Taking Shiro isn’t discreet. Ichigo wouldn’t even worry about meeting his buyer’s expectations if doing this job for his dad’s sake wasn’t such a priority. “Since you’re asking what I think, I think you should find a safe house to lay low and run things from there until you find enough loyal guys to watch your back.” He sighs. “And before you say it, I know you won’t trust them. But you can pay them enough to make it worth their while to keep you alive.” He frowns. “Because I’m not trying to mess up what you have going on. He might be a plant or be in with everyone else trying to kill you, but he might not.” And Ichigo is going to be gone sooner or later. It’d be nice to know Shiro had someone that cared— assuming Shiro’s cop isn’t into backstabbing. Even if this asshole is fine with Shiro using whatever he’s using. Which kind of pisses Ichigo off. “What does he think about all your habits?”
It’s not until he’s getting in the car that he realizes how tame it is. He glances around, taking in the leather and feeling like maybe Shiro picked someone else’s car. “So… this is mild.”
He's expecting Ichigo to turn this into a You're Not Going To Die conversation, but instead it circles into maybe Ichigo dying instead. It drops a stone into his guts. Maybe he shouldn't be allowing Ichigo to get himself involved. Maybe he should be trying harder to push Ichigo away, so he stays out of it, out of harm. On the other side of things; Ichigo's very profession puts him in danger and if Shiro's not selfishly taking up his time now he might not get to later if Ichigo gets himself killed. "You better not." He doesn't even know what he'd do, but it wouldn't be good.
He snorts at the mild offense Ichigo takes at his description of Ichigo's day job. "No, you're right, that is pretty cool. You gonna write a book, then? So in three hundred years some stranger you can't comprehend right now can perceive you? Maybe I need to write a book." He's not going to write a book. That's way too much sitting still for his brain to tolerate. His brows go up a little bit. "Yes I have been and I have no regrets and no intentions of stopping now."
The fact Ichigo wants to go shopping with him at all is a little surprising, but not because he seriously thinks Ichigo judges his fashion sense. Just more the spending time together thing. It's been startling easy to fall into a comfortable companionship again. And sure, they're side stepping and ignoring some really big things, but the company is still easy. "I knew that. You're just being a shit." He's not great at tolerating that.
His attention corners when he feels like Ichigo's looking at him. He shrugs a noncommittal shoulder. "I get it. This isn't the best place to be right now anyway." It's too hard to defend, too hard to properly monitor and barricade. He's not dumb. "Do you actually want me going on that job?" He made a bit of a fuss about it, but he doesn't need invited out of pity. He can entertain himself. He's just scared that if they part now, it'll be the last time they see each other. He shakes his head. "No, I wouldn't. Why do you seem like you're trying to push for that? I would'a said that's what I wanted if that's what I wanted. I have no trouble speakin' my mind."
For a second, while he watches Ichigo look over his car, he wonders what they'll do if it's rigged. Call in Ichigo's team, he supposes. But Ichigo slides out from under the SUV and gives him the go ahead. He turns to a lockbox on the wall and punches in a code, then pulls the keys off a hook and closes the box again. He uses the remove to unlock it as he walks toward the vehicle.
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yanderes-galore · 1 day ago
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How would yandere Ace from OP get rid of his rivals ? 
ACE! I love Ace sm, ngl....
Yandere! Portgas D. Ace getting rid of rivals
Pairing: Romantic
Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Violence, Burning/Burning others alive, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Murder, Possessive behavior, Stalking, Blood, Dubious relationship.
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While Ace is similar to his brother Luffy, He's more mature.
He's still impulsive but way less oblivious.
He's intelligent and polite... yet can still be reckless and impulsive.
He's like a... more controlled Luffy?
He's oblivious occasionally, like when he acts too clingy or perverted.
Yet he's aware of his own jealousy.
He knows why he's on edge with others around you.
Ace no doubt has a better understanding of romantic attraction than Luffy.
Inexperienced... But he understands what feelings you stir within him when he sees you.
He knows you're an addiction, one he watches every single move of.
He's strong, charming, and a loyal fighter.
Although... He has a temper like Luffy.
He has a tendency to get into fights.
He doesn't want those close to him hurt and is easily set off by it.
Ace would originally try to rein in how he feels.
It shouldn't be his business... You deserve better and should talk to others.
Meanwhile he's over here being clingy or watching you from afar.
Although... Ace is capable of being terrifying when jealous.
Sure, with you it seems cute.
He plays it off as being petty pouting to try and get you to pay attention.
It works more than you think.
To others?
He's the devil.
Due to his parentage, many already see him as the spawn of the devil.
It's no surprise with his Devil Fruit powers that he looks like a demon.
It's small at first.
Ace is the type to insert himself into conversations.
He always seems to be watching over you like some twisted guardian.
When he feels he doesn't like the person you're talking with, he slips in.
He wraps his arms around your waist, leaning his head either on your shoulder or head.
He grins at the other person, yet his gaze isn't welcoming.
It's threatening... Ironically cold.
Ace is someone who can seem subtle with threats.
He's grinning with barely restrained irritation, seeming all happy with the other person.
They have to leave at some point, right?
Although eventually he's going to try and push them away, annoyed they're with you.
Ace, while easy to provoke, tries not to harm someone when you're in sight... Much.
But if someone was flirting, too close, threatening, etc...
It's enough to set Ace off.
Ace, like Luffy, is brutal.
He can be blinded with rage.
What makes him worse than Luffy?
The fire.
Jealousy and rage course through Ace's flames.
If you're in sight and some poor fool sets him off, at least you can stop him from searing them.
He gets to the point of his fists covered in blood before you stop him.
When you notice his skin heating and beginning flames licking across it...
You get his attention, sparing the person.
They've no doubt learned their lesson.
Other times... They aren't so lucky.
Other times, Ace is destructive.
He's used to being in the shadow of others, to being treated as unwanted.
We've seen him destroy whole ships with his power.
One measly person?
A rival?
Someone who hurt the one who saw him as something other than the Pirate King's son?
Ashes.
Ace doesn't even really feel bad about it, viewing said people as scum.
He isn't much better... but he views it as sparing you from the worst people of the world.
Ace wouldn't mind punching someone's lights out... watching as his flames consume them like kindling.
They should've known better in his mind.
Ace is infamous and pirates have to kill at some point.
Removing a challenge in his way is no issue.
Especially a nuisance in your life.
No one can touch you with him around.
He gives warnings and subtle threats to others before he does anything rash.
It's their choice if they continue in his mind.
Their punishment is becoming a fine ash to be whisked away by a strong gust of wind.
Afterwards, Ace acts like nothing happened.
He could probably burn someone and their life out of existence...
Then come back to you with a smile, nuzzling into your hair with a relaxed exhale.
It feels pleasurable knowing you're only his.
He simply goes back to clinging and watching over you.
You give him purpose... He needs you...
Yet the moment he sees a new threat to the obsession he has over you...
The process repeats all over again, with little regret if it means he has you.
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ryuzakemo128 · 16 hours ago
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We're All Gonna Die - Part 2
Pairing: Poly 141 x Boomer
Content Warnings: Boomer is the female reader, third-person perspective, philosophical questioning, self-esteem issues (Female Reader), mention of deceased father.
Note: I have been thinking a lot about stuff and things. If you want to comment your own thoughts on any posed philosophical questions, please feel free to do so.
Masterlist - Part One
Divider Credit: @cafekitsune + @strangergraphics
Summary: Boomer does some more deep critical thinking about what it means to be a woman.
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“I don't know what to tell you other than I don't know what to think. Part of me thinks is this all it is? To put into an amount of effort into making yourself seem likeable to someone who wouldn't give you the time of day if you appeared to be someone they don't like to see?” Boomer questioned with a furrowed brow, pacing back and forth in front of the couch.
“If they don't see me as a woman. Then what does that mean for the rest of me exactly? Does it mean that I'm not enough for them? Why do I need to change in order for someone else to like me? Why do I need to alter myself in order to gain a career?”
“When a woman has a deeper toned voice like myself, people automatically assume I'm either trans without any prior knowledge or see it as some form of excuse to say I'm not a 'real woman'. I don't know what to think half the time because it feels like I'm talking to a brick wall half the time.”
“How long have you been thinkin about this?” John raised an eyebrow at the giant pacing around the coffee table like it suddenly became a tightrope over a pool of lava. Boomer's frustration was palpable, and John knew she had a right to feel that way. They'd all faced their fair share of prejudice in the military, but she had the extra hurdle of being a giantess with a deep voice that didn't match the typical damsel in distress.
“Well, my voice particularly? Since I turned sixteen. Just shy of a year off when I enlisted in the ADF at seventeen. So at least eighteen years. Almost nineteen years. Before you ask. The jokes about me a subpar and barely worth taking interest in.” Boomer paused to pick up her cat, Whiskers. Who came in from a long nap.
“And I don't exactly talk about it because why would I? I don't want to seem like I'm 'whinin' or 'complainin'. And I don't want to exactly want people to speak about it behind my back, either. Like, if you have an issue with how I am, why can't you just tell it to my face? Why are you bein a coward? Do you understand what I mean?”
Boomer stared directly at him. Wondering if she had taken a step too far this time.
John nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. “I get it, Boomer. And it's bullshit.” He spoke with a firmness that made it clear he wasn't just saying it to placate her. “You're more than enough. You're a kick-ass soldier with brains to match. You've got a heart of gold, and you're loyal to a fault. And as for the voice, it's part of what makes you unique. Fuck 'em if they can't handle it.”
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The conversation wasn't brought up again. Which, for someone like Boomer? It felt more of a relief rather than a hindrance. Though, when John heard a comment about Boomer's voice being unattractive? The gloves were off.
Was this one of the many reasons why she has never been on a date before?
What does it imply?
What notion does it implicate?
For all her eccentricities, she's still a person of her own making, and to imply she is less than other females around her? It seems like the bias is leaking into her work life. Othering her in some form of justification to keep her from dating completely? Is her genetics any less worthy than their own?
What does it mean to be a woman when the people around her seem to perpetuate a biased notion of what a woman should be?
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Simon decided to plan a date with Boomer. He had taken it on himself to take Boomer out on a date.
If no one else wanted her? Then tough shit.
He's claiming his prize no matter what someone thinks of how she appears to be on the outside.
He hatched a plan with the rest of Task Force 141.
A plan began to take shape. To take form.
As Boomer boiled eggs as what she loved to call a 'light snack'. Which was more like a meal. Her appetite remained incredibly large because of the combination of her training needs and her high metabolism.
Now she stands inside the kitchen. Completely unaware of the plan forming under her nose.
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trentzy · 3 days ago
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i completely understand this but i wanna put my two cents on it-trent represents scousers, liverpool and merseyside. he is no doubt one of their most recognizable icons of all time.
however, i am also a madrid fan, and i can admit a lot of homegrown players from other clubs do only come to us for money. but, as i am also a liverpool fan, trent has won everything he could for liverpool. this isn’t an excuse for him to leave, but it does prove a point that he loves his club.
liverpool is no saint in political issues either, may i argue, considering a part of their past being fascist cults of the kop, the Sun, their constant pushing out of everton, etc.
but i am a fan of these clubs and as fans you are supposed to grow from mistakes and make them better, in this case, both of those clubs have. on the topic of trent again, this would be a case like gerrard, where he was so extremely tempted to leave but didn’t. that is loyalty.
if trent does leave, i would still consider him to be loyal to liverpool despite his presence at another club. like i said hes done everything he could for liverpool, i think going to a different club for different opportunities would be helpful, despite, as you said, abandoning the morals liverpool fc stand for-he is already considered a legend, but i totally agree with you that he is abandoning all statements and love hes targeted to lfc. hes even said,
"I’ve been at Liverpool my whole life. I’ve supported the club, been a fan, been a player, and it’s all I’ve known. It’s not something I’ve ever looked to move away from. I don’t want to go anywhere else, it’s as simple as that. Liverpool is my club." overall, i think if trent does leave, id hope it would be a case like xabi alonso’s-it wouldn’t mean as much since xabi isn’t a home-grown, loved legend of liverpool but he did find extra success if not more from leaving liverpool.
either way im still sad if he does leave😭
really don’t think a lot of people understand why lfc fans are so devastated by the thought of trent leaving
it’s not just because he’s an academy product, and him leaving on a free for more money and glory would mean that all the shit he’s spent his whole career spouting about how much he loves the club & the fans & the city and how much he values the endless support he’s always gotten from the fans will have all been bullshit.
it’s also that, if he goes to Madrid, it’ll show that he genuinely never gave a shit about the club’s values, or at least thinks so little of the club and its fans that he’s willing to undermine its morals as a club for the people, by the people, about the people, a club that has been a source of pride for a long-oppressed and long-exploited city & community in order to move to a club literally built on oppression and totalitarianism and facism, and which has been a tool of propaganda for the elite for decades.
if he throws his legacy away by leaving on a free, thus fucking the club itself over as well, for more money and more glory and more trophies, that’s his decision to make, but he can say goodbye to any lfc fan with a basic grasp on the values of the club honoring him as a legend in the slightest, and he can say goodbye to any goodwill the city has for him.
it’s really hard to say all this, because trent’s been my favorite player for years, but i just don’t understand how anyone could still see him in the same light if he goes running the second Madrid calls him.
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samijey · 2 years ago
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That gif set you made of Sami/Jey backstage you really captured Jeys face when Sami calls his name in that split second of that first gif. My poor boy😭 Just for a second he forgot how to be angry.
Also I just realized Jey must have followed Sami when he heard the commotion backstage too because he didn't know what happened either 😢. That's when Sami decided to be mad at him? When he actually didn't do anything? Kevin's a sketchy bitch too. He conveniently gets attacked when he's the only one that knows Sami would go looking for Jey? No I for real love Kevin but I'll never trust him 😔
Sami look at your taste you have a pattern.
Jey always has a hard time keeping up a front when Sami's around 😭 this man will want to look angry but look heartbroken instead; he'll want to look defiant when Sami's dropping harsh truths on him but he'll look conflicted instead, it's neverending!
I don't think Sami was any more/less mad at Jey after Solo attacked Kevin though! For me the way he looked at Jey who was just standing there was more of a "damn it, I was so determined to talk to you that I forgot this is what happens when the Bloodline's around". During the match, Sami was more aggressive than usual with some of the words he said to Jey but it makes sense that he'll be growing pretty frustrated at this point too - he might be a good guy but he's not a doormat and we saw that in his relationship with Roman.
Also LMAO on that KO aspect! I do believe he's meant to be full-on babyface now, but there's always weird vibes™ coming from him and it might be unintentional at the moment but we're all so familiar with his past actions that it's impossible not to be on edge whenever he's being too friendly. We know he'll inevitably turn on Sami sooner or later (Kev has a condition where if he doesn't turn on his partner in less than 12 months, he'll die!) and when it does happen, I just hope the writing hasn't gone to shit coughvincecough and we continue to be fed with the level of compelling drama we've been accustomed to with all of these guys.
Sami really is the patron saint of lost causes because he manages to fall head first into the most complicated relationships with the most hard to trust/rely on people for whatever reason but somehow he always suceeds in the end 😭 he could probably even help Bray Wyatt become a lovable good guy (only for a while though, we all know what Bray's like lol) if he wanted to..... he's too powerful.......
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morninkim · 6 months ago
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What is UP we're back with more TF: Reconstruction!
Check out the Triple-Changer cadets who joined the squad a couple Earth weeks before Rod and Arcee did!
Hot Rod admires and loves working with Blurr, but thinks Springer is a little too "cool guy jock" for her taste - meanwhile Blurr and Springer themselves have been best pals since joining up with Ultra Magnus.
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blluespirit · 9 months ago
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I sort of like the thought that Zuko and Aang take the Sun Warriors' warning not to tell anyone about the dragons a little more seriously… and they keep it between them. Of course, they trust Sokka, Toph and Katara. Of course they know they wouldn’t tell anyone, but now three people (including Iroh) know the truth about Ran and Shaw. And that’s three too many when you’re trying to keep a secret.
(and there are other people at the temple as well - like Haru, Teo and The Duke - who, while trustworthy, aren’t as close to them as the others, and when it comes to secrets with as much consequence as this one, you can’t afford to take any chances.)
Furthermore, the culture within the Fire Nation since Sozin’s rein has been warped. The culture is not to respect the dragons as the original firebenders, it’s to conquer and kill them. It’s the ultimate proof of your strength as a firebender. All it takes is one mistake before rumour spreads, and people go looking for the ultimate hunt. It’s not something Zuko or Aang can risk.
Whether Katara, Toph and Sokka (and Suki) ever find out the truth is up to you. But post-war, after Zuko returns from a strange, poorly explained trip with a dragon, and eventually develops the ability to use rainbow fire, either the others have some questions about Aang’s knowing look, or they are finally let in on a monumental secret.
#it’s a kids show so i think for that reason it was played for laughs about keeping the dragons a secret is not necessarily a bad choice...#the show does that sometimes where it says something off hand and then leaves me lying face down contemplating ✨the consequences✨ of that#but there are some… implications there about being too loose lipped with the truth in leading up to the end of and immediately post#war fire nation. just because zuko understands the spiritual significance of a dragon it does not mean the rest of his people will. actuall#its more likely that they'd reject zuko's opinion considering that he's basically coming into power and then telling everyone that#they've been lied to their whole lives. the fire nation is drowning in propaganda. for a lot of people this opinion of dragons and#firebending's true nature being violence and destruction is all they know. fire is LIFE but to most people that's an alien concept#and in terms of keeping secrets - it’s not even a matter of trust it’s a matter of too many people knowing#you might not even realised you’ve revealed some incredible information to someone who has the means to spread it or pursue it#so… i think zuko would be hyper aware of this. since he grew up hearing stories about the 'glory' of dragon hunting#and since iroh has also made a concerted effort to keep this information hidden i think it makes sense he’d be very hesitant to let it#get out to the public#aang would agree i think esp if zuko explained the importance of hiding them even from loved ones#ALSO random but it also makes me wonder what the fire nation said about roku in wake of the war#he had a dragon but he didn’t kill it. he didn’t ’conquer’ it#sozin would have had to work his ASS off to reframe history as him being the more… loyal(?) patriotic (?) of the two#did he frame it as roku didn’t have the courage to kill a dragon??? that he lacked the strength of a true firebender?#the avatar works hard but sozin's propaganda machine works harder 🧍‍♀️#zuko#aang#avatar the last airbender#zuko & aang#jack talks#sun warriors#book 3#what is it with me having a whole separate post in the tags 👁️👄👁️
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tekkenenjoyerblue · 5 months ago
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How much does Echo hate Cammy and the other dolls for defecting/going against Bison at literally the worst possible time imaginable (aka SFV).
Bonus question If you wanna answer it: how badly does he hate Chun Li.
Hate is a pretty strong word for Echo’s opinions on Cammy, and the other Dolls for that matter, his loyalty to Bison doesn’t blind him to the fact it’s not a mindset shared by most of the specialized groups in Shadaloo (The Dolls were literally brainwashed, Echo’s not surprised that when that failed the girls defected at the first chance). He doesn’t hate them for defecting, it logically makes sense that they would, but the timing like you said could not have been worse. He’s not outraged and fuming like you’d see from someone like F.A.N.G, to Echo it’s just another obstacle to be handled like any other
He was close with the Dolls for a time before all this, basically brought in to help accelerate their combat training as their teacher when he was between missions, he also treated them far more fairly than others like F.A.N.G, but Echo’s pre-existing bonds mean little when Bison’s plans are on the line. It’s not to say he doesn’t empathize with their situation, he just refuses to let that stop him from doing his job. If there’s any hate it’s more from the Doll’s being hurt/confused how Echo could willingly remain loyal to M. Bison
Bonus Question answer, Chun-Li is a pretty consistent obstacle to Bison’s plans which naturally means Echo doesn’t really care much for her. Chun-Li has tried to track Echo’s movements for some time with little success. I’d consider it a mutual hatred but Echo respects Chun-Li’s skills both as a martial artist and as part of Interpol, if they meet its bound to lead to a clash and a very frustrated Chun-Li when Echo inevitably gives her the slip (if Echo were in the games Chun-Li would definitely be a consistent rival battle for him, probably C-Viper as well)
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nohara-rin-dot-mp3 · 11 months ago
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i go back and forth on rin's elemental nature. i really think fire suits her for thematic parallels to sasuke reasons and also i just think fire is cool and suits her whole. perception of her self and being weird about purpose deal. but water is also cool because i think rin deserves to bloodbend. elaine kind of beat symbolism where she controls other people to try and come to terms with how she can't control herself. the way to resolve this is to take the path of "nature can warp under stress or whatever" and let rin's og nature be fire, so she has that in the entire og timeline and also the team 7 sensei au (good because those are the ones where the sasuke parallels are the Strongest) and then in the akatsuki!rin au the whole almost dying thing somehow leads to her nature changing to water. which works well because that's the au where she is the weirdest about control and also masks. 👍
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lawrence-songs · 4 months ago
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An anon, meaning well: how does interacting with bendykins feel?
Me, attempting to restrain myself to the best of my ability: ahem. I mean. It's wonderful.
#Frankly even hearing the name mentioned is like having something take over#There is a feral animal in my head and it wakes when the demon is mentioned.#I so often made fun of myself in source for monologuing but now I get it.#It is such a feeling.#I'm going to rant in the tags because I can't bring myself to make this a real post. But it's like seeing a part of myself.#Like the essence of something deep in my bones.#I have to respectfully take myself back several notches around bendykins because I know that more likely than not#They are not *my* demon. And what I remember and the level of comfort and the understanding that we had does not exist here. And that is.#Both deeply comforting and deeply and truly upsetting. It is wonderful that he exists in this world in so many beings. And it is devastatin#That he does not know me. I was so loyal for so long and he doesn't remember me. There is not one I am able to speak to that feels really#And truly like what was once the experience i had because it was so personal. And the few bendykin I know are still far from that level of#What i suppose you'd consider a very close friendship. I knew he cared about me then. I cannot force it on those who are him now.#And I'd never want to.#But the heartache is still there. Of all that time spent for only myself to hold the remembrance of it in my chest.#I don't even remember most of it. Only the feeling it gave me.#And how much I miss that.#sam talks#Sammy Lawrence#Batim#Batim kin#Samuel's vents.
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rainswept · 9 months ago
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i feel like dan heng is one of The easiest characters to comprehend personality wise, yet in my opinion people still get him wrong so often. am i just too picky. bye
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naddahaintheforest · 2 years ago
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They're 100% right.
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of course it’s sasuke
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llycaons · 5 months ago
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this cop has mud for brains. he knows the cop system is racist against him and corrupt and oppresses his people specifically but he's still SO proud to be a cop and angry that a militant indigenous resistant group killed a cop on a raid. like maybe they killed a cop because the cop system brutally oppresses them and holds their holy city for wealthy colonizers who brutalized then and pushed them off their land in the first place? is he a complete fucking idiot?
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retiredteabag · 2 months ago
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The soul does not lie
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synopsis: Sukuna allows tedious nonsense when he can feel your soul's cravings.
〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰
Though he hardly mentions it, Sukuna can, in fact, feel your soul in a way that a normal sorcerer never could. Knowing this helps to make sense of the fact that the man can always tell when you are distressed, even when you try to hide it.
You had discovered this little ability of his when he had come stomping in from the gardens one day while you watched unblinkingly at a horror film.
With your eyes only visible through the slots of your fingers you looked up to see him standing, arms crossed, in the entry way of his chambers.
"What is it that brings you fear?" He had thundered.
"W-what... no, nothing, I'm just watching a movie, see?" You flipped your phone around for the man too see but he did not take his eyes off your form.
"I do not repeat myself." His four eyes were squinted and his eyebrows arched in a dangerously attractive way.
"Kuna' it's a horror movie, that's all, I'm not really scared." You finally announced to the rolling of four red eyes.
"Your soul states otherwise." He quipped before drawing close to try and see what had your soul trembling so fearfully. He was disappointed, to say the least when he was unable to identify what was so "horrific" about your film.
And that marked the moment you realized that Sukuna was able to feel you in a way you could not understand.
Sukuna was NOT a gentleman, he was far, far from it. He loved to bring terror to the masses, very rarely did he allow another beings to so much as speak in his presence. He did, however, have "soft spots" for creatures that sparked his interest, and those remarkably loyal.
Even so, he did not make efforts to calm your nerves when you were anxious. He did not feel the slightest effect in his chest when your sorrow was palpable. He would certainly not allow for time to be wasted on your souls quivering's. That-was none of his concern.
It was not as if he was taking any actions when he allowed your pathetic "cuddling" nonsense when he felt the pangs of misery that surrounded your essence.
You had tried to hold him in the past but he did not see the use in wrapping oneself around another. Even so, he found himself pretending to sleep (even though he did not need it) when he sensed your desperation for his touch.
Likewise, when he could feel the shaky and childish excitement that bled from your soul when you were happy, he could not seem to help but humor you.
As mentioned, Sukuna does not require sleep like your helpless human form. Still, it was not uncommon for the king of curses to close his eyes, relaxing in his ultimate power. Be it when he bathes, when he is lounging on his palace's engawa, when he is seated on his throne, or even when he reclines himself along his chamber's bed.
Sukuna had his eyes closed one evening, feeling his power splay out from his body, grasping at the forms of everyone within his domain. When he sensed your spirit, quickly approaching his chambers.
He made the decision then to seem uninterested when you clambered through the doors.
He could hear the switch in your step as you drew in a breath, clearly forgetting what you had wished to say at the sudden image before you.
The bloodthirsty man had never looked more like a jungle cat, lying atop his bed in such a lazy fashion. He felt the exact moment your soul leapt. He knew you had covered your mouth as your heavy breathing had dulled despite your heartbeat climbing to unusual heights.
He knew of your antics. Having felt you chew on each of his biceps several times. You had that same giddiness now. It was simply that he did not care to move that he kept his eyes closed. Pretending not to notice as you took out your phone, your feet dancing around him. He'll allow you to take your ridiculous photos, he's too... relaxed... to... take issue with your senseless mischief.
He could tell you had finished when he heard you pocket your phone once more, your hands covering your beating heart, you leaned down, holding your breath. The king of curses had to keep himself from squishing his face in ....disgust.... as you planted a chaste kiss in the space between his lower eye and his upper lip.
"You're too precious." You quietly whisper. Brushing your hand softly through his hair. And Sukuna rolled his eyes behind his lids.
Such foolishness he has never seen. Even so- he will allow it.
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sinner-as-saint · 3 months ago
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scary? my god, you're divine
Hitman/Mob!Bucky x Reader 
Run-through: Your marriage to Bucky Barnes was crucial in stopping the rivalry that had been getting rather violent recently between the two families. You agreed to it. But there was one little problem. Although people knew of Bucky as being a ruthless, fiercely loyal, and feared hitman, no one had ever seen his face. In the rare occasions when he’d been seen out during assignments, it was rumoured that he always wore some sort of mask which covered most of his face. So you ended up marrying a man, and had no idea what he looked like. But surely that wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like his one touch would get you addicted. Who cared what he looked like? It’s not like you could grow to love someone like him anyway… right? 
Themes: arranged marriage, age gap (reader is in her mid twenties, bucky’s in his late thirties), mentions of violence and death, hitman!Bucky, smut, fluff, explicit language, virgin!reader, HEA
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Something woke you up in the middle of the night. 
And you’d been staring at the dark ceiling above your bed for the past few minutes now. What had woken you up? It could’ve been the strong winds hitting the large Georgian windows. Or perhaps it was the soft ticking of the nearby clock. Or maybe even the weight of all the incessant thoughts running through your head. 
Gods, you thought, what a day. 
It had started out like any other. Your father was pacing around, worried and barking orders on the phone, trying to find a way to put a stop to this chaos that was quickly forming into a full war between him and his number one rival. Small attacks had turned to frequent drive-bys, threats had turned into taking turns and blowing up each other’s warehouses and clubs. And it would only get worse and worse. 
But this morning, as he watched you come downstairs and into the dining room for breakfast, something in his eyes was different. And you could tell what was coming. You had been thinking about this for days. So when he sat you down and discussed how you could do your part in helping to put an end to all of this. 
“It’s only a matter of time before he sends his son, his favourite weapon after us all,” Your father sounded defeated. “And none of us would survive him. No one ever does. You know that.” 
You nodded, understanding what he meant. “I know.” 
The son of your father’s rival, Bucky Barnes, was a name which could make even powerful men like your father tremble in fear. He was like a ghost. No one ever saw him. No one knew what he looked like. Those who had seen him claimed that he always wore a muzzle-like mask to conceal his identity. He was known for being his father’s most prized weapon. They say he never misses, that his aim is and has always been as sure as Eros’ arrows. He was like an evil Cupid. 
“The marriage would only be on paper of course, you don’t have to live with him.” Your father explained, seeming desolated, “But you being married to him would make us family, and…” He trailed off, sighing. 
But you knew what he meant. Family meant everything in this society. If your family and the rival’s were joined to each other by marriage, all attacks would cease. Because keeping family safe was everyone’s number one priority, even in this line of work. 
So this was all up to you now. Your family’s safety, the safety of people who worked with and for your father, all the allies, and friends, and acquaintances. It was a heavy weight to carry. 
“I’ll do it.” 
Things happened so quickly after that. Phone calls were had, arrangements and deals were made, and by the afternoon, a sheet of paper was brought to you. That’s it. No groom, no fancy shit. Just a piece of paper on which Bucky Barnes had already signed. And with your signature added next to his, you two were now forever husband and wife by law. 
It was weird, being married to a man you had never seen before. He was just a name. Granted, a name with immense magnitude in the society, but still just a name. No face to go with it. 
By the evening, your things were packed. It was an order by your new husband. He wanted his new bride in his home, and things were so freshly mended that neither you nor your father wanted to argue. So Bucky sent cars and a bunch of his soldiers to escort you to his house. It was not unexpected that he was so absent from all this. Bucky Barnes had a reputation of living in the shadows. He was so rarely seen.
Bucky’s house was not too far from your family home. In fact, the closer you got to your new home, the more you realised that despite everything, you did not mind this as much as you thought you would. 
Your husband’s home was this stunning piece of architecture. A lavish Georgian-style mansion. Beige stone, carved details and mouldings around the many windows and main entrance. Dark shingles on the roof, well-manicured lawn, a long driveway giving it a sense of both elegance and exclusivity. The mansion sat on a beautiful, seemingly endless estate. Lush and green. It was a testament to the wealth and the power of its owner. 
You were politely led inside the home by one of the many staff members who took care of the house. And the interior was just as breathtaking. Luxurious, with the right amount of vintage accents. 
“We did what we could with the limited time we had to prepare a room for you.” The kind lady had said to you. She also mentioned that this room would be entirely yours. Bucky apparently had his own on the other side of the mansion. 
You murmured that it was alright, and when she finally showed you to the room they had ready for you, you were pleasantly impressed. The layout, the colour theme, the decor, all of it was to your liking. You even had a personal little balcony which looked over the endless green backyard. 
That night you dined alone, which was not a surprise. Everyone knew Bucky Barnes was a busy man, and he was apparently above trivial things like dining with his new wife. But the silence was welcomed. After dinner you found yourself back in your bedroom, and soon in bed with a book. 
Well, maybe this was your new life now. Grand mansion with an impressive library. Solo dinners and kind staff members. A giant, dreamy bedroom all for you. Dare you say, it wasn’t too bad. 
But here you were now, unable to fall back asleep after some mysterious thing woke you up. You sighed, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. You couldn’t even blame your new surroundings for your inability to sleep. Everything here was so quiet, and comfortable. Even this new bed felt like laying on the fluffiest cloud. Perhaps you could read some more–
You froze when you heard it. 
Someone breathing. Someone else’s breaths. A soft exhale, but it was enough to make your heart race in panic. It was the middle of the night. And there was someone in this dark room with you. 
Slowly, you tried to reach for the lamp on your bedside table to turn it on, but then you heard a voice say, “Don’t.” 
A smooth, relaxed, male voice. Sounding like it came from one corner of the room. It could only be one man, couldn’t it? 
“Bucky?” You questioned, for some reasons pulling the covers up to your chin as if he was not a man but a ghost. 
A pause, then he said, like he was gently teasing you, “Hello, wife. Can’t sleep?” 
You blinked a few times to adjust to the darkness better. You strained your eyes until you could see the silhouette of a man in the corner of the room. He was sitting in one of the sofas near the unlit fireplace, quiet, still like a marble statue. 
There was almost no light coming into the room. The thick curtains allowed very little moonlight in, and it was hard to see. But you couldn’t ignore that large silhouette now that you’d noticed him. Something near him was shiny, almost metal like, you couldn’t tell what it was. 
“Do you always lurk around in the shadows like a ghost?” You asked, wondering where the hell you found the confidence to talk to one of the finest hitmen like this. It’s not like he would shoot you if he didn’t like you. A small voice said. Would he? 
A chuckle. Deep, and careless. A boyish sound. 
“It’s my house,” He responded in that same gentle but teasing tone, “I lurk wherever I please.” 
Well, he did have a point there. 
“Well then,” You said in a casual tone, “If you’re done lurking and spying on me, I’d like to go back to bed.” 
A soft scoff. Then he said, “I’ve watched you toss and turn for the past half an hour. I’d say you’re having trouble turning your brain off.” 
Half an hour?! 
“Wouldn’t you?” You retorted, keeping your voice calm and steady. “If you were forced to marry someone who’s so mysterious that no one’s ever seen them before, wouldn’t you have some trouble turning your brain off?” 
“Ah.” He got up, and you could tell by the sound of his footsteps that he was approaching the bed, “No one forced you to marry me. A suggestion was made and you agreed to it.” 
You replied quickly, “The alternative was watching everyone I love and myself be murdered by you, so semantics.” 
Another chuckle as he stopped at the edge of the bed, so close to you. You refused to move. You tilted your head up but could still only see his silhouette. He spoke in that teasing tone again, “They said you were smart, and beautiful. Guess they forgot to mention you were bratty too.” 
You frowned. “What?” 
Silence. Then he began moving away from your bed and towards the door. “Good night, wife.” 
“Good night,” You muttered, slightly annoyed and confused, “Ghost.” 
You heard his soft chuckle right as he shut the door behind him and left you all alone again in the dark. You didn’t dare turn the lamp on even after he left. 
— 
“Is Bucky ever home?” 
You asked one of the staff members at breakfast the next morning. The lady smiled at you and answered, “He keeps to himself. We rarely ever know if he’s home or not. He works at odd hours, you see? Besides, our job is to take care of the house. We clean, we make the meals and leave them in the fridge, we get our paychecks each month. Everyone is happy. We don’t pry.” 
You nodded, sipping on some tea. “So… are you one of the people who don’t know what he looks like?” 
“Oh no. I saw him recently.” She said, smiling. 
“How recent?” You asked. 
“A couple of months ago. He’s a busy man, he’s rarely ever home.” 
Unbelievable. 
“Doesn’t it feel like you’re employed by a ghost?” 
She smiled again, refilled your cup and said, “Oh, we’re used to Mr. Barnes. Sure, sometimes it feels like the house is way too empty. But look, now you’re here! We get to take proper care of someone for once.” 
She was so cheery and kind that you couldn’t help but smile at her words. How on earth did a man that grim manage to have the best staff members in the whole world? 
— 
The following night, Bucky came to see you again. 
You woke up upon hearing the door of your bedroom opening. You sat up again, leaning against the headboard. You didn’t reach for the lamp on your bedside table this time. Instead you said, “Lurking again, I see.” 
“Oh yes,” He answered, taking a seat on the same sofa by the dark fireplace. “How was your day, wife?” He asked, as if this was the most normal way to have a conversation. 
“Good.” You said, “I spoke with your staff members. They say they barely ever see you at home.” 
He sighed, “I barely ever am at home.” 
You rolled your eyes even though you knew he couldn’t see it. He was too… intangible. Faceless. There was nothing you knew about him aside from his profession. And not knowing was starting to annoy you. 
“Why can’t I see you?” You asked. “I mean it’s not fair. I married you. I’ll eventually see you someday.” 
He was silent for a moment. Then asked, “Will you?” 
“Well, yes.” 
“What for?” There was that teasing tone again. So subtle. But it was there. 
Your face burned. “Well… we’re married.” You stated the obvious. “And it won’t be long till our families start asking for, you know, grandbabies.” 
“Babies can be made in the dark.” His smooth voice felt like a gentle caress. Like the finest, cool silk sliding over your warm body… 
Oh no. You can’t like his voice. Not yet. 
“That’s not what I–,” You sighed, “Why are you so against showing your face? Are you ugly?” 
He chuckled then. Loudly, if you could see him you’d surely see his shoulders shaking. “You think too much, wife.” He got up again, ready to leave. “Good night.” 
You sighed, defeated, and listened to the sounds of him leaving the room. Then almost angrily whispered, “Good night, husband.” 
“It’s because he’s ugly, isn’t it?” You asked two of the staff members one morning while they set the table for your breakfast. “That’s why he doesn’t show his face?” 
The two ladies chuckled to themselves, and one of them said, “No he isn’t.” She sounded confident too. 
“Have you seen his face? Like properly?” 
They both nodded. 
“And? You don’t find it weird that he doesn’t show his face?” You questioned. “He refuses to let me see him. He only comes to talk to me in the dark. Like some messed up Eros.” You whispered the last part to yourself. 
One of the ladies said, gently, “Give him time. He’s not… terrible.” 
— 
“Your staff speaks highly of you.” You said to him when he came to see you that night. Again, sat in that corner like a ghost whose only purpose was to haunt your bedroom specifically. 
“Do they?” 
“Yes,” You made yourself comfortable, leaning against the headboard like you had the habit of doing. “Do you pay them to sing your praises?” 
He chuckled. “Is it that hard to believe that I’m not some sort of monster?” 
You sighed. “If not then why can’t I see you?” 
“Not yet.” He said. 
“Why?” 
“Because I said so.” He replied, and by the sounds of it, he stood up. Surely ready to leave. “Now, is there anything you need?” 
You tried to see if you could tell where he was standing but the room was too dark. However, it seemed like, judging by the sound of footsteps, that he’d gotten closer to the end of your bed. “There’s nothing to do around the house. The ladies take care of everything. I appreciate the library, but…” 
He was quiet, like he was thinking. Then said, “I’ll see to it.” 
“I’m assuming you won’t let me go back to work in my family’s companies.” You could tell he wouldn’t. 
“No,” He said, as expected. “You’re my wife now. I’m well equipped to provide for you and see to your needs for the rest of our lives. But if you have any hobbies, please, indulge away.” 
Something about his calm tone made you confess your little secret, “I like to paint. I’ve always wanted to be an artist.” 
You didn’t know why you were telling him all this. Perhaps the dark helped you open up better. Maybe the fact that you didn’t know him made it easier to talk. Like how people tend to prefer texting over calls. Him being so invisible made it so much more effortless. 
You continued, “I always wonder what it must be like to have an exhibition of my works.” You chuckled. “I know it sounds vain but… I’ve always wanted to let my mind and soul leak all over canvases, and share it with the world. I think it’s such a brave thing when people do that.” 
He was quiet for a few seconds, then spoke in that teasing tone, “Painting, huh?” 
You rolled your eyes. “You don’t get to make fun of me, ghost.” 
He chuckled. “Get some sleep, wife.” 
And then he left. 
— 
The following morning, you woke up to two surprises. 
The first one was waiting for you at the breakfast table. You noticed the box on the floor immediately. It was partially opened, and had a note stuck to it. 
The note read: ‘Since there’s nothing to do around the house…’ written in a messy handwriting. Surely Bucky’s. 
You opened the box and in there, on a folded blanket, was a sleeping, fluffy little puppy. A black lab it seemed. With a pink collar around her neck. You gasped as you gently picked it up and couldn’t resist bringing it up to your face. Puppies always smelt so good. 
The little one yawned and let out some cute noises as you held her up to look at her properly. By now the two ladies whom you saw frequently around the house walked up to you and one of them said, “He left something else for you.” 
You followed the ladies, new puppy in hand, and they led you to what seemed like a newly built studio. It was in an area of the mansion where you didn’t go very often. And as you walked in, you gasped in surprise for the second time that morning. 
It was located on the ground floor. A bright and spacious space. The beige walls felt like a giant blank canvas in itself. The large Georgian windows allowed the perfect amount of light in. And everything in the room was neatly organised. Art supplies, paints, canvases, palettes, easels. 
Oh, it was perfect. 
The ladies left you to explore on your own, saying something about bringing you breakfast in here. But you were distracted by the bright yellow sticky note on one of the easels. You walked up to it and it read: ‘For your mind and soul to leak all over. Paint me something. I’ll consider it a wedding gift.’ 
You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read and re-read the note left by your mysterious husband. You whispered to your sleeping puppy, “Maybe our ghost isn’t so bad, huh?” 
-
Hours went by. 
The ladies brought you and the puppy your meals, a bed for the pup, snacks for you, all while you were busy letting your creativity flow as much as possible. 
The first few canvases were horrible according to you. You hadn’t picked up a paintbrush in so long so it felt like day one all over again. But gradually, over the next few canvases, you could see what your brain was trying to create. 
The blank canvas soon turned into flowy shapes. Curves, facial features, hands. Entwining bodies. Two of them. And the colour purple, lots of it. It didn’t make too much sense at first, but the more you worked on it the more you realised what you were painting. 
It was your version of ‘The Abduction of Psyche’. How fitting. 
By the time you were done and happy with it, your back was aching from sitting on that stool all day. It was almost time for dinner. The sun had set. The puppy was awake so you held her up to show her the canvas and asked, “You think our ghost will like it?” 
She let out the tiniest, softest howl. 
“Yeah, I think so too.” 
You left to shower and have dinner. Then once it was time for bed you asked one of the staff members, “Does Bucky have some kind of an office?” 
She replied saying yes he does, and that she could show you where it was. You grabbed the not yet dry canvas and carefully carried it all the way to where Bucky’s office was. The lady again left you all by yourself to explore. 
At first you didn’t want to spend too much time in there. It was Bucky’s space after all. But then you thought, if he was comfortable walking into your bedroom at odd times during the night, why shouldn’t you check out his office? 
So you did. You left the canvas where it could dry without any problem and where Bucky would see it upon entering the room. Then you began exploring. The room was not what you were expecting for someone like Bucky. You thought it would be less… old school. 
He had a vintage looking typewriter on his desk for gods’ sake. Not one he used of course, but it added layers to his character you thought. Dark wooden furniture, comfortable looking chairs, more bookshelves filled with cloth-bound books. It was… cosy. 
So cosy in fact that you grabbed a book and made yourself comfortable on one of the chairs. You’d read for an hour or so then head off to bed, you thought. 
But soon, you drifted off to sleep. Right there. In Bucky’s office. 
-
You woke up and felt something soft and fluffy moving around on your lap. You opened your eyes and quickly realised you weren’t in bed. The room was dark. With very little light coming in from the outside. There were no curtains in this room, but also it was situated in an area of the mansion where very little moonlight came in.
Before you could panic though, a voice spoke up from not too far away, “You’ve been busy today, I see.” 
Ah, Bucky. And fuck. You’d fallen asleep in his office. 
You refused to feel embarrassed. So you asked, “Did you like your wedding gift?” 
“Yes.” He replied, and gauging by the sound you could tell he was sitting at his desk, in the darkest corner of the room. “I’ll hang it in my office.” 
You smiled in the dark, feeling a little proud of yourself. “And where’s my wedding gift?” 
“In your lap.” 
Fair. 
“What should we name her?” You asked, reaching to caress your puppy who let out an adorable grunt. “Hedone? Donnie, for short?” 
He let out a chuckle. “You are really leaning into this whole Eros-Psyche thing, huh?” 
You shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t have to if you’d just show me your face. But you keep choosing not to, so deal with it.” 
A pause. Then he asked, “You like your new studio?” 
That made you sit up straighter. “I love it. Thank you.” Then you added, “My family always thought painting was a waste of time. They said it kept my head in the clouds too much. That it was… pointless.” 
He was quick to say, “It’s not. Besides, your hobbies don’t have to make sense to anyone else but yourself. And I’ve seen the other canvases you left in the studio. They’re good.” 
You turned to face the dark corner he was in. “You think?” 
“Yes,” He said. “We can hold an exhibition if you want. Let me know when you’re ready.” 
You let out a surprised chuckle. And when he didn’t laugh you realised he was serious. “Bucky, it's not so easy.” You explained calmly. “There’s so much work that goes into it, there needs to be some cohesion to the art pieces. There’s marketing, there’s research, there’s…” You exhaled, “There’s a lot of work to be done. Art exhibitions aren’t as easy or quick as you think it is.” 
He replied, “Leave all that to me. Just let me know when you want to hold one.” 
Just like that? 
“I… okay.” 
You felt warm in a way you’d never felt before. No one had ever taken your interests so seriously before. You’d never even been able to discuss this freely about your hobbies. And here Bucky was, ready to listen and interact with it. 
You got up to leave because this was… a lot to process. “Well then. Good night, Bucky.” 
A soft scoff. “Think I liked it more when you called me a ghost.” 
You smiled as you approached the door, puppy in hand and amazed at how well you were able to navigate in the dark. “Night, ghost.” 
He gave you a satisfied hum, then, “Good night, wife.” 
— 
It was bizarre to admit but you’d gotten used to those conversations in the dark with your husband. Days went by quickly given how engrossed you were with painting. Especially with the thought of a potential exhibition now in the back of your mind. Gods, that would be a dream. 
And while your days consisted of painting, playing and training your puppy, exploring more and more of the grounds and your new home, making quick trips to the stores to get more supplies, catching up with your friends who were still trying to grasp the fact that you got married so quickly, getting to know the household staff and the guards better, your night consisted of waiting and fighting your sleep until Bucky came to talk to you. 
It was always short conversations. Filled with easy banter and teasing tones, sarcastic comments and you asking each and every night if he was in the mood to show his face. Bucky always said no. And you always sent him off with a ‘good night, ghost’. 
You had gotten used to your ghost. As had your puppy. She would bark happily each time Bucky would enter your bedroom door at night. She’d run to him for playtime and cuddles as he sat in his dark corner and spoke with you until you fell asleep. 
Bucky would often leave you some kind of a note, for you to read in the morning. At the breakfast table, or in your studio. Sometimes he would leave compliments and comments on your dry canvases. Eventually, you stopped fighting the smiles which formed on your face as you read his notes. 
But all of it only made you want to see him more. Not that it would change anything. Bucky had quickly become… a friend, you’d say. A confidant if you will. He had become a habit. Part of your routine. 
And then one night, he didn’t come to see you. 
You waited. He usually came around midnight. It was well past 2 a.m. and he never came. 
At some point you went downstairs, pretending as if you just needed some water. One of the guards caught you trying to peek out into the driveway from the kitchen window. 
“Boss is not home yet, ma’am.” He said. 
You acted like you didn’t care. But still asked, “He does this often?” 
“Sometimes.” 
You nodded. You took your drink and with your puppy in your arms you walked back upstairs, passing by the many guards who were on duty inside the house at nighttime. 
“It’s alright, he’s probably just busy.” You whispered to the sleeping pup as you made your way up. “Or maybe he’s hurt and tending to his wounds somewhere else.” You felt a gentle pinch in your chest at the thought of Bucky hurt and alone out there. So you forced yourself to think of something else. Something way worse. “Or maybe he’s with someone else.” You scoffed, nuzzling the soft fur of your pup, “This marriage means nothing to him anyway. But that’s alright, we don’t need him. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other. Don’t we?” 
Safe to say, you went to bed slightly annoyed that night. And in denial too because you refused to admit that you missed him. 
– 
There was a note waiting for you in your studio the next morning. 
It read: ‘No I did not spend the night with someone else. I’ll explain later. See you tonight, wife.’ 
Huh. Looks like the guards have really good ears. 
Well, whatever. It’s not like you were impatiently waiting for night to come just so you could talk to your ghost of a husband. Right? 
Except you were though. So much that you couldn’t paint a decent thing. You were easily giving up on each canvas, and leaving a trail of unfinished work the more time went on. 
Eventually you sighed and left the studio. You tried reading but that wasn’t happening either. So you did the only thing you knew would take your mind off things. You asked the ladies to show you where everything was kept in the kitchen and you got to baking. 
Which you did until it was time for bed. Your mood was off, and it was all because of a faceless man. And that somehow annoyed you even more. 
You grabbed a plate of the mini muffins you’d made earlier and made your way upstairs. Your puppy had just gotten used to the stairs so she happily followed you everywhere you went now. 
You proceeded to sit in bed, and eat your muffins angrily and forced yourself to try to sleep. 
-
You woke up sometime later. And you just knew who was in the room with you. 
Except he wasn’t in his usual spot. 
He was standing by the windows which faced your bed this time, with his back to you. The curtains were pulled, the moonlight came and there was his dark silhouette. And… you frowned as you noticed the shiny metal arm. 
“You’re home.” You said. 
Bucky turned his head to the side, “I am.” He said. 
You took a second or two to admire the side profile. With the moonlight shining all around his silhouette he looked like a fallen angel of sorts. “You didn’t come home last night.” 
“I was out working,” He said. 
“Maiming and killing?” 
“You know me so well.” 
“Is that a… metal arm?” You questioned. 
“It is.”  
“Were you hurt?” 
“I was.” 
You sighed again. “Is it always going to be bland answers and mystery with you?” 
“Get used to it.” He said in that teasing tone. 
You got out of bed as quietly as you could. “I think I liked you better without the attitude, when you sat in the corner like a ghost.” You took some steps away from the bed, approaching the giant windows. The room was rather spacious so it would take some more steps to get close to him. If you’d only– 
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” He warned, but remained in the same spot. 
You groaned. “Don’t you think this is getting tiring? I mean, I’m married to a man I’ve never seen before. In fact, no one has ever seen you. Why? What are you hiding?” You added, sounding defeated.  
Bucky lowered his head, which only accentuated how broad his shoulders really were. He sighed. “Do you know how much trouble could’ve been avoided if only Psyche trusted Eros?” 
You rolled your eyes. “I think she had her reasons. A mysterious, faceless lover who only shows up in the dark and hides in the shadows is bound to raise some doubts. Don’t you think so?” 
He chuckled. You blinked and he’d turned around to face you. But despite that, you couldn’t see his face at all. Even though he was inches away. 
He was quiet. Observing you with interest. The moonlight allowed him to see all of you, and he just… stared for a moment or two. A shiver ran down your back. An unfamiliar, but pleasant shiver. 
Without a word said, Bucky reached out and gently touched the thin strap of your silky night dress resting on your shoulder. His metal finger gliding along your skin and making you gasp at his cold touch. 
“What’s this?” He asked in his usual teasing tone. “Trying to tempt me with this excuse of a night dress, wife?” 
Fuck. Had his voice dropped lower? 
Fuck! He was so close to you. You didn’t even notice that your heart had begun racing. Your breaths had deepened. Shit. Why was this so hot?! 
“Are you? Tempted?” You asked with a steady voice, without thinking obviously. You just needed to say something so he wouldn’t notice the way you were basically panting after him like a thirsty dog. 
He chuckled. But remained quiet. 
So you said, “Thought so.” You sounded smug but you were feeling the complete opposite. 
Bucky scoffed in that arrogant way he often did. It was insane how easily you were able to pick up on his mannerism when you hadn’t even known him for that long. “Is that what you think? That I don’t want to sleep with you?” 
Oh. 
Oh this was bad. Because now your brain was making up hot, steamy scenes in your head. Scenes involving you and your faceless, mysterious husband in the dark. Entwining bodies on soft bed sheets. Fuck, you should paint that. No, what?  
“Then why haven’t you?” You found yourself asking. 
Okay then, bold as fuck it is. You’d gone past the point of no return now. Guess it was time for this conversation. 
Bucky’s fingers remained on your shoulder, tracing the thin strap there. And you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the smirk in his voice when he asked, “You want me to?” His metal hand dropped to your waist and before you could fully process it, he pulled you closer, leaned in to whisper into your ear, “You want my hands all over you, wife?” 
You could feel his slight stubble against your skin as he spoke. His lips brushing against your ear, making you gasp and tremble. Your hands found their way to his shoulders. And oh, he was pulling you even closer. Your chest pressing against his. The cool material of his suit felt amazing against your warm skin. 
“Look at you,” He cooed into your ear. “Is this what you want? Hmm?” He placed both his hands on your waist, pulling you into him. His lips moved lower, brushing against your neck as he spoke. “You like how rough my hands feel?” He moved his hands up and down your sides. “Do you know how many people I’ve hurt with these hands?” He chuckled when he heard the tiniest moan leave your mouth. “You’re so soft and warm, aren’t you worried what these hands might do to you?” 
He nuzzled your neck, hands roaming all over your sides and back and squeezing your butt. You became so pliant under his touch. Tilting your head back to allow him to kiss all over your neck, pressing your chest more and more against his like you couldn’t get enough. The layers of clothing, you wanted them gone. 
With a shaky voice you murmured, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to scare me or turn me on.” 
He laughed. And it was the best sound you’d ever heard. 
“You’re sick in that pretty head, huh?” He teased. “That beautiful brain is filled with filthy, dirty, dark thoughts, isn’t it?” His metal hand reached up and carefully wrapped around your throat. 
You gasped as he squeezed just a little bit. Those dirty thoughts he spoke about really started to fill your head. 
“Are you just all talk or–,” 
He cut you off by dragging you all the way to your bed, still holding you by the throat. 
The back of your knees hit the edge of the bed and he gave you a slight push, ending with you falling onto your bed on your back. You looked up at him, hovering above you, his lower body pressing into yours. 
“Do you just run that mouth?,” He asked, supporting himself with one hand while the metal one remained wrapped around your throat, his voice low and menacing but in a way that made your legs part on their own so his hips settled in between them. Your bodies fit together like the most perfect puzzle pieces. “Or do you know how to take it like a brat as well?” 
You felt the need to let him know then. “I don’t know,” You said, sounding both breathless and bratty. “I’ve never had to take it.” 
He paused for a moment. Then asked in subtle surprise, “What do you mean?” Even his grip around your throat loosened completely. 
You squirmed in slight embarrassment but that only caused your hips to grind against his and for a moment there both of you let out a strained moan. Fuck. The tension between the two of you was almost physical now. Even in the dark, even with Bucky being nothing more than just a shadow above you. 
“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, still feeling his cold fingers all over your skin, “I’ve never been with anyone before.” 
He was quiet. As if thinking. You tried your hardest but you couldn’t see any of his facial features. You knew he had a slight stubble because you’d felt it earlier. But aside from that, you knew nothing. Not even his eye colour. 
“You want us to stop?” He asked, shifting his body slightly as if he was ready to pull away if you asked him to. 
“No,” You answered way too quickly. Then you got bold again and let your hands find their way back to his shoulders. You pulled him down, closer to you just a little and said, “This is okay.” 
His fingers moved up, from your neck to your mouth. “Yeah? You want this, huh?” He mumbled, tracing your mouth with his fingers. You shivered under his touch. “You’ve been a whiny little brat lately, haven’t you, wife? Pouting and all just because I wouldn’t show myself to you.” He whispered, leaning in to just brush his lips against yours. You gasped at the sensation of his soft lips rubbing against yours. Bucky chuckled at your reaction. “Don’t think my staff doesn’t report back to me. I’ve been well aware of all the times you asked the ladies to give you details about me.” 
Now that made you squirm in embarrassment. Still you said, sounding a little annoyed at being caught. “Can you blame me?”
“Can’t you just trust me?” He argued. 
The danger and authority in his tone had your thighs clenching together to try and alleviate the torturous pain in between your legs. You were almost certain you had never been this turned on and annoyed at the same damn time before. You sighed in frustration. “This isn’t fair.” 
“No, it isn’t,” He said, pulling away and began undressing you to your pleasant surprise. “Deal with it.” 
Oh fuck. 
Fuck… You had to hold back from whimpering each time his hands rubbed against your skin. He took his time in sliding the straps of your night dress down your shoulders, dragging the silky fabric down your body, leaving you more and more naked under him. 
You shivered once he left your night dress bunched around your waist carelessly. It wasn’t just because of the slightly cold air. It was because even though you couldn’t see him, you could tell he was staring right at you. 
You spoke in a hushed voice, not daring to speak loud in fear that it might break whatever spell you were under. “So you get to see me naked all you want, but I can’t see your face?” 
He chuckled. “You want me to leave this room right now? Leave you here all wet and squirming? Or do you want me to take care of it and make you come? Huh?” 
That shut you up really quickly. 
“I thought so.” He sounded smug again when he said that. “I should spank you for the brat you are. But since it’s your first time… I’ll be nice.” 
His hands touched you everywhere, your thighs, your stomach, your sides, your chest, your neck… everywhere. He left you gasping and trembling under him. 
“Please.” You caught yourself whispering. 
Bucky leaned down, his soft mouth brushing against your cheek as he said, “Please what?” 
You squirmed, “Touch me, please.” 
He chuckled. You felt his warm breath against your skin as he kissed his way down your naked body. “Look at you,” He murmured, lips brushing against your stomach, “You’re so eager already.” 
You heard the faint chuckle which left his mouth the moment he noticed your legs spread apart for him naturally. Your face felt like it was burning but fuck, you were too turned on to even be properly embarrassed. Also, being in complete darkness helped. 
Damn. You were really getting intimate with your husband whom you hadn’t even seen yet. And somehow that fact was making you want this even more. 
But that mystery stopped being an issue the moment Bucky leaned in and kissed your wet folds, his tongue slowly circling around your throbbing clit and licking down, parting your wet folds with ease.
He poked at your entrance with his tongue and your body felt hotter than before. Back arching off the bed as you let out a soft moan at the foreign feeling. Fuck he felt good. You whimpered as you felt his tongue stroke your most sensitive parts. Your immediate reaction was to pull your hips back from the overwhelmingly good sensation his mouth was causing. And that made him grip your thighs tighter, keeping them pinned to the bed. 
“Stop moving.” He ordered and the authority in his voice made you tremble. 
You whined as you felt his strong arms wrapped around your thighs, keeping you in place and close to his mouth. The metal hand on your warm skin made you shiver and tremble so much that you were thankful for the darkness. 
The small amount of moonlight which came in allowed you to only see the silhouette of his broad shoulders, and his head moving slowly, sensually in between your legs. Fuck… somehow the mystery only made it hotter.
Oh you were fucked in the head for real. 
And oh, Bucky was a fucking tease. Once he noticed how easily you cried out and moaned for him, he slowed down and began kissing around your clit just to purposely mess with you. He kissed your thighs, purposely avoiding touching where he knew you needed him the most. He kissed down all the way to your core, and gently bit your skin around your inner thighs. 
“Bucky, please!” You cried out, hand reaching for his hair. When you managed to grab a fistful of his soft hair, you gave it a gentle tug. “Stop teasing me.” 
“You don’t get to give me orders, wife.” He said, sounding all proud and mighty. “I could just walk out of here and leave you like this. Naked and squirming.” 
“Please,” You begged again. You could feel your arousal trickling out of you. 
A scoff. Then he leaned in again. You whined and whimpered under him, with your legs wrapped around his head. Fingers in his hair, massaging his scalp instinctively as he flicked, and sucked, and teasing your clit as much as he could. 
“You’ve been a brat because you wanted your husband’s attention so badly, huh?” He taunted. “Is that what you wanted? Just my attention?” He chuckled. “You’re as calm as a happy kitten now, aren’t you?” 
His stubble rubbed against your sensitive skin, and the friction burned a little but it was the kind of pain you kept wanting more of. You wanted more of him. 
“Fuck, your mouth feels so good,” You murmured, throwing your head back, moaning as he kept teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue. 
“Come for me, wife.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, securing you in his grip as he pushed his face further into you, making you cry out loud. 
You couldn’t even hold on for much longer, and ended up coming undone all over his tongue. Heart racing, legs trembling in his grip as you came. Your moans were soft and incessant. 
Fuck… that felt amazing. 
You had barely gotten your heart to stop racing, and Bucky was already standing up and in the dark you couldn’t see very well but it did look like he was moving away from the bed. 
“You’re leaving?” You asked, unable to stop yourself from sounding a little upset at his departure. 
All he said was, “Good night, wife. See you tomorrow.” 
You scoffed after he shut the door behind him, leaving you in darkness yet again. “Ghost.” 
— 
That night ended up being the first of many. 
Your days consisted of painting, and finally finding a flow in most of your pieces. Perhaps if you’re able to make a decent collection, you could start thinking about the exhibition seriously, you thought. When you weren’t painting you were either training your rapidly growing puppy, or baking. You’d begun taking your puppy out for walks around the mansion, consequently doing some more exploring of the grounds. 
After all that, each night you’d get in bed and wait for Bucky. It became part of your routine. And each night with him was different. He’d spend his time touching you slowly until you were purring for him like a kitten. Kissing you all over your body in the dark. Making you come all over his tongue and fingers. Kissing you until you moaned and pulled him closer just to feel his weight pressing down on you. 
But he would always leave after making you come. And you two never actually fucked. Neither would he let you make him come. 
On nights when he wouldn’t make it home, you’d worry yourself to sleep. But then each morning you’d find a note from him either in your studio or the breakfast table. He would always say some cheesy shit. And he would always promise to come see you later that night. 
On nights when you two didn’t engage in anything sexual, it was still just as fulfilling. Bucky would tell you things about his work, his past, his family. You learnt that he was over a decade older than you, and teased him about being an old man until he pinned you to the bed and tickled you until you couldn’t breathe. 
You learnt that he liked to keep to himself and stay as far away from his family as possible. He liked peace and quiet, which would explain his lovely home being here away from most people. 
The more you learned about him, the easier it was to grow fond of him. But the more you grew fond of him, the greedier you got. You wanted more. More of his time, his touch, his attention, and most of all, you wanted to see him. 
The mystery, while hot as fuck, was killing you. 
One night, things changed. 
Bucky came into your room as usual. He’d gotten bolder lately, he wouldn’t sit in the corner like a ghost anymore, instead he would find his way to your bed and only leave that bed after making you come hard. 
Tonight started out the same way.  
You felt his hands all over you as he pulled you closer to him under the covers. You giggled as he bit and licked that one sensitive spot on your neck. Your fingers had a habit of finding themselves in his hair. It was insane how easily you’d gotten used to being with him in the dark. How easily you could find his mouth with your own. How easily you’d find your way into his arms. 
It was weirdly comforting. His warmth, his voice, his touch. 
“Tell me about your day,” He murmured, kissing your neck while his hands grabbed you and caressed you wherever he could reach. 
You squealed when you felt his metal fingers wandering dangerously close to your clit. Then said, “It went pretty well. I went out to buy some supplies, made a new friend at the store, I went to see my father but he wasn’t home. I took our dog for a walk, I painted…,” You gasped when his mouth trailed down till he took a nipple into his warm mouth, while he slid two fingers inside you gently. “Oh fuck…” You whined. 
He kissed his way up to your mouth again and said, “You sound so good when you moan for me, wife.” His lips brushed against yours. 
He was so close. And it was dark. And you wanted so desperately to see him. 
He moved his fingers expertly in and out of you. Making sure to brush against your most sensitive spots each time, turning you into a whimpering mess under him. He gave you a gentle kiss, swallowing your moans as he brought you closer to the edge. 
You whimpered and whined, then in the moment you just blurted out, “Can I please see you now?” 
Bucky stopped. He pulled away from you, making you whimper again as he got up and got out of your bed. 
In the dark it took a while for you to figure out where he was, whether he was still nearby or already making his way out the door. But he was here, standing near the bed. 
“We talked about this.” He said, sounding grave and disappointed. 
“But it’s been so long.” You argued. “I trust you.” 
He let out a loud exhale and said, “Then trust me when I say, it’s better this way.” 
You let out a sigh. “You can’t keep me in the dark forever, Bucky. Literally!” 
“Yes I can. I will.” He said arrogantly. That tone of his bothered you. “It’s better this way.” He repeated, but it sounded a lot like he was trying to convince himself instead of you. 
“Oh screw you!” You said with enough bitterness to make a grown man flinch. “If you won’t let me see you then stop coming into my bedroom. I don’t want to see you unless you agree to let go of this weird persona.” 
“Fine.” 
That night was the last time you heard from Bucky. 
He didn’t come home the following day. Nor the one after that. 
And no one knew where he went. 
You could tell something was wrong when you began noticing that the guards were talking in hushed voices whenever you were around. You noticed that the amount of security around the house doubled. That’s when you began to worry. 
By the third night, the entire house was filled with this almost tangible tension, worry, and fear. The house staff wouldn’t talk to you as much. The guards were always in and out of the house. The head of security advised you to not wander too far away from the house while you roam the grounds. 
You noticed the guards would follow you whenever you left the property. Be it when you left to visit your father at your old house or when you went out to buy supplies. 
Then you worried some more. But no one had answers to your questions. Nobody knew where he went. Whether he’s away for an assignment or if he’s simply choosing to be away from home. 
You tried your hardest to pretend that you didn’t care. You were still a little angry. After all, why couldn’t you see what he looked like? You’d spend so much time with him in the dark, running your hands all over him, tracing the outline of his facial features, he never had an issue with that. But why couldn’t you see him? 
You were angry, but also very much worried by the fourth day. You missed him, you realised. He had become such a habit, such a constant in your days. His sarcastic humour, his gentle hands, his comforting embrace, the way he left you notes in the morning, the way he took your art seriously. 
Fuck. You sat up in bed one night, patting ‘his’ side of the bed softly. You missed him. Badly. You felt a pinch inside your chest which you had never felt before. It hurt. You wanted him home. You admitted to yourself with a painful sigh. 
“Where are you?” You whispered, looking at the dark corner of your bedroom where he used to sit in silence like a ghost. “It’s okay if you want to stay in the dark forever.” You looked around the dark room which now without him seemed so much bigger and empty, “Just come home.” 
The next morning, as you half-heartedly approached the kitchen, you overheard something. And quickly realised you shouldn’t have heard it. It was the two ladies talking in hushed tones, the ones who usually served you your meals and often kept you company while you baked. 
“...cannot tell her, she’ll be heartbroken.” One of them said gravely. 
Sudden panic made your body freeze. You pressed your back against the nearest wall to keep yourself hidden while you processed those cryptic words. No, no, no. Is he hurt? Do they know something you don’t? 
The other replied, “But she deserves to know. Even if it’s not confirmed yet. I mean, do you see how she smiles when she reads his notes? Clearly she had grown to care for him. She needs to know.” 
The other argued, “I know, but I cannot imagine how hurt she will be when she hears about the rumours that her own father kidnapped her husband due to some past rivalry which was supposedly laid to rest after their wedding.” 
“They’ve been looking for him for days now. It’s been too long, he should’ve been found by now.” 
Fuck. Fuck. FUCK! 
No. This cannot be happening. 
You carefully walked away from the kitchen. Thinking, processing, analysing. 
If your father did it, it must’ve been for some shitty, arrogant reason. He probably just wanted to rub it in Bucky’s family’s face that he could still eliminate his biggest threat if he wanted to. To show that he could still get rid of them by holding their most precious weapon hostage. To toy with them by making them wait in anticipation. Your father had done it before. Not with Bucky, but other people. He usually never asked for ransom but he liked having his rivals beg him for mercy. 
Shit. He’s had Bucky for days now. 
You moved without thinking twice about it. For some reason, your brain knew exactly what to do even though your heart was still bothered by a multitude of emotions. It felt like you were on autopilot. 
You rushed into Bucky’s office and grabbed a handgun from his desk drawer, checked if it was loaded. It was. You knew Bucky kept it there for safety, he had told you that one time when you two were in bed together. 
You let out a frustrated sigh, then felt movement around your ankles. You looked down at your puppy and gave her a sad smile as you bent down to pet her. “I’m gonna go find daddy, okay? I’ll be home soon.” You left her with a kiss. 
You rushed back downstairs and found a group of armed guards in the foyer near the front door. You didn’t have the time to explain it all to them, especially since you were driven by a gut feeling. Instead you asked, “Do you guys have a way of tracking my phone, or my car?” 
One of them nodded. The rest frowned in confusion. 
You tried to keep your calm as much as you could even though your heart was racing. “Okay, I’m gonna go to my father’s house. Don’t follow me yet, but I need some of you to come find me as soon as I begin driving away from there.” 
Surprisingly, they just nodded and let you go. 
The whole time you drove to your father’s house, it felt you were constantly having to force yourself to keep calm. After four days of having no idea where he was, and now as all the puzzle pieces fit together, it was hard to remain calm. You just wanted to get to him. 
And while you drove, unanswered questions tormented you. 
Was he hurt? Where was he being kept? Was he beaten up? Was he even conscious? Would this end badly? How far would your father take this? Would he hurt him? 
Before you knew it, you were entering your father’s property. The guards let you in like they always did. You had to take a minute to breathe in your car before stepping out and going inside your old home. 
Luckily your father was home. 
You walked in and stopped in the middle of the foyer as you saw him making his way down the stairs. He slowed down when he noticed the glare you sent his way. And when he stopped in the middle of the grand staircase, with you still glaring at him, the guards who were scattered around the entrance noticed. You caught the way they silently got closer and closer, slowly reaching for their guns. 
Good thing you’d brought your own. 
The guards, as well as your father, froze in place the moment you pulled out Bucky’s gun and pointed it at the man responsible for all of this shit. No one made a single sound. No guard moved to even try to disarm you. 
You looked at your hand, which was surprisingly steady as it held the gun. And there, on the side of the shiny metal, you spotted Bucky’s initials. Your heart throbbed in a painful way, but you refused to be emotional right now, even though you needed a good cry after having bottled up your feelings for the last few days. 
You glared at your father, who was still shocked, and asked in a cold tone you’d never used before, “Where’s my husband?” 
Your father frowned. “What do you think you’re doing?” 
You repeated, “Where is he?” 
Your father scoffed, “You’ll shoot your own father? Is this how I raised you?” 
“And you’ll kidnap your own son-in-law? For what? To show that you’re still the shit?” You questioned in a slightly raised voice. 
He sighed like he was disappointed, “You don’t know what–,” 
You cut him off. “We had a deal, right? That these petty attacks would stop after the wedding? That’s why I got married, isn’t it? Because we’re supposed to keep family safe?” 
He was quiet for a moment. Then began talking again, “If I could just get them to–,” 
“Enough!” You sounded just as tired of his bullshit as you were. “Whatever plan you have, just stop!” Then it came spilling out of your mouth, “You were supposed to protect me. All of us,” You said, referring to your older siblings, “Instead you married each of us off in exchange for whatever or whoever was going to benefit you more.” 
He argued, “If this works, you can come back home. Don’t you want that?” 
“No,” You said, and realised you meant it. “This was never home.” You admitted. “He treats me better than my own family ever did. He doesn’t tell me that my art is a waste of time. He doesn’t keep me imprisoned inside his home. He doesn’t choose who I should mingle with and who I shouldn’t. He doesn’t force me to join family businesses because it’ll be good for his image.” You taunted your father. “And he’ll never sell me to the highest bidder.” 
Your father made a sound like he was disgusted. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him?” 
You remained quiet. I care for him, you wanted to say, deeply. But that would be lying, wouldn’t it? Truth was… you did fall for him. His calm voice. His gentle but playful demeanour. His dark humour. His brilliant mind and sharp tongue, always ready to argue and debate. His gentle touch… you loved him. 
“What I do and who I care for is none of your concern anymore.” You concluded, stepping forward and keeping the gun aimed at his face. “Now, where is my husband?” 
The smirk on your father’s face was maddening. “You’ll never find him,” He said. “I’ve hidden him well.” He added.  
You gave him a smirk as well. One which mirrored his. 
“Oh don’t make me do this.” You cooed. “Did you forget all those times you got drunk and confessed all the bad things you did?” You began listing, “All those times you spilled all your little secrets. About our family businesses, about your allies, the lies and betrayal. The bodies that are buried on this very property. The skeletons in your closet.” You gave him a sick, sweet smile. “Imagine if all that information just magically ends up in the ears of your rivals, dad. Imagine the carnage.” 
His smirk disappeared. “You would betray me by siding with them?” He asked in disbelief. 
You were getting tired of this. So you lowered your gun and said, “I am one of them.” 
You walked out without a single glance back at your father, but you could tell he had his jaws clenched in anger. He hated being outsmarted. But his mistake was underestimating you. 
And as for Bucky’s location, well your father gave it away when he said ‘I’ve hidden him well.’ 
There was only one place he believed you knew nothing about since at the time that he told you about it, he was drunk out of his mind as he confessed more of his crimes: the rundown warehouse which he used as a hideout/storage for weapons and arms. 
Your father had always referred to Bucky being a ‘weapon’ so it was only fitting that he would think to hide him there. Thinking no one would find him. 
But you would. 
As you drove to the warehouse, you hoped that the guards were tracking you as you had instructed them to. Because if Bucky was truly there, there was a high chance that there would be some guards, and that Bucky must be injured. And you’d need help getting him out of there. 
Driving to the warehouse, you had silent tears streaming down your face. Not just out of sadness, but also frustration. Fuck, what had your life become? 
The warehouse was a disaster, you realised as you approached it. Large, crumbling, windows boarded up with rotting wood, broken machinery scattered around the outside. It looked like it had been abandoned for decades. And it was exactly the type of structure no one would bother to look twice at. The perfect place to hide illegal things, and son-in-laws you hate. 
There weren’t as many guards as you expected. Which would mean that Bucky was either chained and locked up like an animal, or that he was injured to the point where he was too weak to fight his way out of here. 
Or both. 
You shivered as you got out of your car. The few guards who were around noticed you and one of them began walking faster towards you the more you got closer to the entrance. 
“Miss, you can’t be here. Your father explicitly said no one is allowed–,” 
You scoffed and said, “Oh, I know what he said.” You kept walking. “What will you do? Shoot me?” 
“Miss,” He tried again, “I can’t let you–,” 
You turned towards him and placed the barrel of Bucky’s gun right under the guard’s chin. “You were saying?” 
Then you heard it. A fleet of cars approaching. The guards heard it too. You heard them yelling at one another while the one in front of you remained frozen in place. You smirked at him and said, “Now go play with them.” 
You had just enough time to duck and run inside before the gunshots began. You didn’t stop. The interior of the warehouse was just as dilapidated as the outside, and by the sound of it, there were quite some guards on the roof. Their heavy footsteps as they ran to duck and try to escape the bullets raining down on them echoed inside the empty warehouse. 
It was fairly easy to spot Bucky. But fuck was it painful to see him that way. 
He was chained to the wall, shackles around his wrists and ankles. His body slumped on the ground, his breaths ragged. You could tell he was tired. Perhaps tired of fighting against the chains. You couldn’t hold back your soft sob as you ran to him. 
They had left his muzzle-like mask on him, covering the lower half of his face. The leather jacket and gloves he wore were covered in blood and dirt. A lot of blood. You knelt down in front of him and that’s when you noticed the bullet wound on his thigh. It looked fresh. 
“Bucky?” You called, reaching a hand to touch his face. He was cold to the touch, but stirred at the sound of your voice. “Bucky, come on. Wake up. Please.” You sniffled and inched closer to him, “I’m here, I’m gonna get us out of here, okay?” 
He let out a weak cough. You could barely hear it over the sound of the gunshots outside. 
“Bucky,” You tried to get the chains and shackles off of him, “Come on, wake up. We need to go home.” Your own voice cracked as you felt the silent tears streaming down your face as you were unable to get the shackles off. “Please,” You begged. 
Then as the gunshots outside faded away, you heard Bucky’s faint voice saying, “Use the gun.” 
You turned to face him. “What?” 
He spoke again, his voice raspier than usual and sounding muffled due to the mask. “Shoot at the chains.” 
Your hands trembled just a little as you reached for the gun you had brought. His gun. And you said, “Okay, don’t move.” 
You did. And only missed twice. 
Breaking the chains left the shackles still around his wrists and ankles but that could be dealt with later. You were panicking, wondering how you’d get him out of here but the guards barged in just in time. And you let out a sigh of relief when they ran straight to Bucky and carefully picked him up. 
As a couple of them managed to get Bucky in the backseat of your car, one of them let you know that there was a doctor and his assistants already waiting at home to tend to Bucky. Another one asked you what to do regarding the warehouse. 
“Burn it.” You told him. “I’ll deal with my father later, right now we need to get Bucky home.” 
On the drive home, Bucky kept trying to talk. But he was so weak he could barely get full sentences out. 
“Weren’t you mad at me?” He asked.
You sniffled and said refused to answer that. Instead you said, “Try not to talk. You’ve been shot, we don’t know how much blood you’ve lost,” You rambled. “Let’s get you to the doctor, okay?”  
“S’okay,” He mumbled, “It went through.” 
That only hurt more. “Bucky please, you need to save energy, okay? We’re almost home.” 
“They… shot me with my own gun.” He refused to keep quiet. 
At first you thought his brain was being delirious and making him ramble. Because of the pain, exhaustion, thirst, hunger. But then a weak sound left his mouth. Still muffled by the mask because no one removed it, and it sounded a lot like a very weak, faint laugh. 
“Eros got pierced by his own arrow after all.” He mumbled. 
You held back a sob. Then muttered, “I hate you so much, Bucky Barnes.” 
Another weak laugh. “No, you don’t, wife.” 
Then he passed out cold. 
— 
The next few days which followed Bucky’s rescue went by so fast and so painfully. The medical team kept close watch on him for days. Bucky was in and out of consciousness a lot. All the meds and the exhaustion kept him constantly out cold. 
The nurses and the house staff were constantly around him. But for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to go into his room. Not yet. You’d linger near the door and the doctors and the staff would constantly update you about his condition, but you never went in. 
Mainly it was because of shame. At what your father had done to him. But also you were still making peace with and processing your own emotions and you couldn’t face him until you were fully ready. What was important was that he was rescued and safe in his home. 
About a week later, the medical team finally left. And promised they would do frequent check ups and told you that Bucky needed a lot of rest. 
And that night, you managed to find the courage to finally step inside Bucky’s bedroom. It was a lot like yours, just larger. The room was dark when you walked in. But the open curtains allowed some light in from the outside. 
Okay. You spoke to yourself as you approached Bucky’s bed. It’s high time you find out who you married. 
Your hands shook a little as you reached for the dim lamp on his bedside table. But you turned it on quickly before you could talk yourself out of it. 
The golden light illuminated the room partly, and there he was. A little bruised, with a cut on his lip. His handsome face made you smile and tear up at the same time. You couldn’t hold back from reaching to touch his face softly, carefully. You ran your knuckles along his cheek and whispered, “There you are, ghost.” 
He stirred. And soon, a pair of sparkling blue eyes look up at you. For a moment you panicked, wondering if he would be upset. But instead he said, “This is cheating.” 
You let out a soft laugh and asked, “How are you feeling? You’ve been asleep for days.” 
“I feel like beating your father up.” He mumbled. 
“Oh, same.” You agreed. Then added, “I’m so sorry for what he did to you.” 
Over the past few days, the guards had gathered what had truly happened the day Bucky went missing. Turns out, he did leave for an assignment but your father and his men had been keeping a close eye on him for days, and since the wedding was supposed to have ended all rivalry, Bucky had his guard down as he entered your father’s territory. And your father had the upper hand for once and took advantage of it. Bucky was cornered, outnumbered and taken. He was kept in that warehouse up until you found him. 
“Don’t be,” Bucky whispered, reaching for your hand on your lap. He gave your hand a soft squeeze and said, “You saved me.” 
You couldn’t look away from Bucky. It felt so intimate to finally be able to see his face. Then rather sheepishly, you asked, “Can I sleep here? I’ll be careful.” He was still injured and in pain, but you just wanted to be close to him. You needed to. 
He smirked, “Come on.” You walked to the other side of the bed and slid under the covers, keeping some distance between you and him. He turned to look at you and said, “Want me to leave the light on?” 
You nodded. And he did. 
— 
A lot changed after that. 
Bucky was healing from his injury and was starting to walk again. Which meant that he was home a lot. He did ‘work’ but it mainly consisted of him ordering people around on the phone. 
Him being at home meant that he followed you around as much as he physically could. He would spend time in your studio, sometimes he’d stay for hours and watch you finish your pieces. He also spent a lot more time with your dog, taking her on short walks and teaching her new tricks. 
He’d stay with you in the kitchen while you baked. He’d go with you whenever you went shopping for supplies. Bucky became your shadow. And consequently, spending this much together made you feel closer than ever to him. 
He became your best friend. 
He also became a lot more… bold. 
One night Bucky found you in his bathroom. After that night when you first slept in his bed, you hadn’t gone back to your bedroom. So now, most of your things slowly found their way into his space. Like your night time skin care products. 
Bucky crept up behind you and wrapped his arms around you. 
You met his eyes through the mirror and gave him a smile. “Your limp is nearly gone.” You announced, noticing the way he walked was so much better now. 
He gave you a look which meant nothing but mischief, “And you know what that means?” 
You could already tell where this was going. You immediately turned him down. “Bucky, we cannot. You’re still injured.” 
“But it’s been weeks.” He said it like it was the ultimate torture. “Don’t you miss those nights we spent together? Hmm?” He whispered, leaning in to kiss your neck. He knew it was one of your weaknesses. “Remember how good it feels when I make you come?” 
You sighed, letting him kiss you and hold you for a moment. “Buck… you’re still healing.” 
“Come on, baby,” He cooed, nuzzling your neck, “I’ll make it so good. I promise I’ll tell you if it hurts.” 
You almost gave in the moment he playfully bit your neck, his hands finding the belt of your robe and shamelessly undoing it before sliding in to touch your warm skin. “But,” You tried to find something even though all you wanted was to drag him to bed, “Your stitches…” Your words ended in a soft moan as his metal fingers found their way in between your legs, circling around your clit. 
Bucky growled. Growled. Then said, “Fine, you get to be on top then.” 
You froze, and let out a nervous chuckle. “But I…,” You opened your eyes and met his through the mirror. “I–,” 
“Shh, it’s okay.” He reassured you, remembering the time you told him you’d never done anything with anyone before. “I know.” He gave you a sweet kiss on the cheek. “I’ll teach you.” 
And he did. Patiently. 
He took his time in undressing both of you and held your hand in his as he laid down and pulled you on top of him. 
“I’m scared I’ll hurt you.” You murmured. 
He gave you a reassuring smile. “You won’t, baby. Now come on.” 
He watched as you carefully straddled him, settling comfortably around his waist. One hand holding his metal one tightly while the other remained splayed over his chest. 
Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust as he tugged on your hand, pulling you in for a kiss. You leaned down gently and pressed your mouth to his. His warm hand immediately rubbed up and down your side lovingly. He pulled away just a little and whispered against your mouth, “We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with, okay?” 
You nodded, already breathless. 
“Tell me, baby. What do you want?” 
You told him the one thing you desperately wanted. “I want to touch you.” 
Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist, your core pressing down on his crotch. “Go on then, touch me.” He murmured. 
He watched you intently as you reached out and touched his face first. Bucky’s heart was racing, you could tell by the way he breathed, as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs, so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. 
You gave him a teasing smile when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your naked body. 
“Don’t tease me,” He mumbled. 
You chuckled and leaned in to give him a brief kiss before hesitantly wrapping your hand around his cock. Part of the reason why you kissed him while doing it was because you were worried about your lack of experience, so you did it to distract him. 
But he caught it. And wrapped his own hand around yours, making you grip him tighter. You pulled away from the kiss and looked into his pretty eyes. Bucky was breathing heavily. You let his hand guide you as you gave him an experimental stroke, a gentle up and down movement. 
He felt thick and hard, and big. You looked down for a quick minute as you let him continue guiding your hand, lazily stroking his cock, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you looked back up at him and kissed your way down his neck, around the base of his throat, making him gasp in pleasure. 
“See?” He whispered, “You’re learning already.” He said as he slowly let go of your hand and let you touch him on your own. 
You continued exploring this new feeling. He was completely fine with just being there and letting you take your time. And you did take your time, touching him everywhere you could, stroking him as slowly or as quickly as you wanted to. Until he was so close to the edge, eyes rolled to the back of his head, lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth as  pre cum started dripping down his cock. 
Oh he was a sight to behold. But you were getting impatient, and you wanted him in you as soon as possible. So you stopped, earning a groan from him. 
“I want you,” You said. 
Bucky looked like he was barely able to hold back either. “Come on,” He held your hand again, pulled you in for a quick kiss as you straddled him properly. His hand reached down and aligned the tip of his cock to your hole, teasing you with it by sliding it up and down your slit a few times until you were whimpering. “Now sit on it baby come on,” He encouraged you as you began sinking down on him, gasping as his cock stretched you out. “You can do it.” He murmured, breathless as he watched his cock disappear inside you more and more. “That's it. All the way down, come on baby.” 
You were a moaning mess by the time you sunk all the way down, impaling yourself down on his cock. Fuck. You had never felt so full before. So fucking full. 
“You okay, baby?” He asked, holding you by your hips, moving you back and forth just a little bit to create some friction. 
You nodded, moaning at the slight movement. 
“Want me to help you move?” He asked, lips parted and he had that wild look in his eyes.
Fuck, he was beautiful. 
“Yes, please,” You whined, placing your hands on his chest to brace yourself for what was coming. 
He wasted no time. Bucky grabbed you by the hips and helped you move up and down his cock. Your wet warmth wrapped all around him, making him swear under his breath and groan at how good you felt. 
You couldn’t look away from his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and feeling him twitch inside you. 
“Look at you.” He cooed. “Look how well you're taking it.” 
You couldn’t help but lean in to kiss his open mouth. He was so perfect. He was everything you had ever dreamt of, you realised. 
His metal fingers moved to touch your clit while you rode his cock, teasing you and bringing you closer to that edge. It wouldn’t take much. You were so overwhelmed already. 
“Bucky…” You whined, dragging your hands down and pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him around his thigh area, where he was shot. 
Bucky watched you, your breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you got so, so close to the edge. 
And he knew. So he quickened his pace, still moving you up and down his cock while he rubbed your throbbing clit. 
“Baby, I’m gonna need you to come for me, okay?” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. His desperation was quite clear. He began to thrust his hips up even harder, matching your movements.
The air around you got hotter, and that look in his eyes made you want to live in this moment forever. Bucky was the most beautiful mess you’d ever seen. A sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. 
You were sure you looked like a mess too as you felt your walls clench around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. 
“Come for me,” He whispered, “Come on, baby.” 
You came without a warning, crying out loud and impaling yourself down on him one last time as you did. Bucky thrust up into you one last time and came undone as well, both of you breathing hard and fast. 
You carefully got up from his lap and laid down beside him, body limp and slightly sore in between your legs. 
You were still catching your breath as you asked, “Did I hurt you?” You sounded just as worried as you were. 
Bucky chuckled. “I should be the one asking you that.” 
You smiled and snuggled into his side, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you closer. 
“I’m fine, baby.” He said and kissed your forehead. 
You both laid there in silence for a while. 
Cuddling and relishing each other’s warmth, caressing each other’s skin. 
You felt his fingers drawing random shapes on your back as you laid your head on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeats against your cheek. You felt the need to ask him, “Why were you so against showing yourself to me?” 
He gave you a soft chuckle. “You just can’t let that go, huh?” 
“Nope.” 
He sighed, pulling you closer. “I was… afraid.” 
You frowned. “Afraid of what?” You pulled away and looked up at him. “Why did you hide this pretty face from me?” You gave him a quick kiss on his chest as you waited for his answer. 
He sighed again. “Everywhere I go, I… whenever people see me up close, it’s already too late. They don’t see a human anymore, they see death staring back at them.” He paused. You remained quiet. He continued. “I see it, you know? In their eyes. When they look at me and plead, or beg, or curse me.” A humourless laugh, then, “After some years of that, I began seeing it in the mirror as well. I saw the same thing they see. After years of brutality, and killing, and spilling blood,” A soft chuckle, “Years of being an evil Eros as you call it, I grew to hate my face.” 
You felt tears forming at your waterline but you couldn’t look away from him. Not when he was being so brave and vulnerable. 
He continued. “And then before our wedding, I looked you up.” He confessed, a little embarrassed. “And you were so beautiful.” He looked you right in the eyes and repeated, “You are so beautiful. I guess, I didn’t want you to look at me and see death, and ugly and all the other dark stuff. I didn’t want to see that look in your eyes, the same one I see in everyone. That look of fear and disgust.” He finally admitted, “So I thought, I’d just hide and be a ghost.” 
“My ghost.” You corrected him, reaching out to cup his chin in your palm. “And I’m gonna need you to never stop haunting me.” You said, leaning in to leave a soft kiss on his lips. “I want you to always be in the shadows. Be with me, even in the dark.” You gave him a smile. “I look at you now and you know what I see? I see a man who treated me with respect. A man who wouldn’t touch me unless I asked for it. A man who gave me so much space for my creativity.” A faint smile, then you added, “You made me fall in love with art all over again, and now everything I paint, I paint with you in my mind.” 
He gave you a smile which both broke and mended your heart. 
“Oh Buck,” You cupped his gorgeous face with both hands and said, “You’re not death, or scary, or any other dark shit. You’re mine, and I love you.” 
He pulled you in for a kiss so quickly you barely processed it. “And I love you.” 
You giggled into the kiss and only pulled away when you were breathless. You kissed your way down his chin and nuzzled his neck, sighing in delight. 
Bucky said, “I think I should retire.” 
“Hmm,” You asked, “And what would you do in retirement?” 
“Watch you paint, raise our dog, adopt some more animals, attend your art exhibitions, and eventually make some babies with you.” He listed it all so easily. 
“Sounds like a plan.” You agreed.
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